DESERT STORM

THE DESERT STORM




I sat squashed in my guest room

My safe heavenly observation line

Parched in a cubicle that pinched sized

By the minutes as I grow castrated

Watching people move about in frenzy

In anticipation of what is old, inevitable

Though a stranger, feeling one and thesame

As we awaited the moment of joyous encounter



***



The head was scotched and burnt

Prior to the rampaging tempest

Then came the cloudburst

Stampede race on desiccated soil

Escorted by crazed larger drops

Like wet slash on parched earth

Natural impediments made beggared

By season of cheerless and biting vapour

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